


Let's Be Dreamers

by peculiarblue



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, all the feels, anne and phillip deserve the world, big brother phillip is what i live for, flirting overload, slightly altered movie plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarblue/pseuds/peculiarblue
Summary: making all your anne and phillip dreams come true, one flirty side-eye at a time(a modern re-telling of the greatest showman)





	1. A Moment in Blue

* * *

 

“I like him.”

 

“Well, I don’t”

 

“Oh, c’mon Phin, you’re not even giving him a chance!”

 

Phineas shakes his head at the sight in his kitchen.

 

If you told P.T. Barnum a few months ago that’d have Phillip Carlyle in his house, he’d have laughed in your face. As as he watches him from the tight entry way of his apartment that’s two-months past due on rent chasing his squealing girls around the very small kitchen, he still has to wonder if this is actually happening. But remembering how he’d resolved a little while back to spontaneously start a circus in bustling New York, he guessed anything could happen.

 

“How’d you even find him?”

 

“He offered the girls his seat on the subway when we were coming back from Caroline’s dance class.”

 

 “Wealthy socialite Phillip Carlyle offered our girls his seat?” He rolled his eyes and his wife hit him on the shoulder.

 

“Oh, stop being so difficult!” She laughed, “Being rich doesn’t make you heartless. You should know that better than anyone…” She looked at him, reminding P.T. of their own unlikely start. Rich daughter of New York’s top elite marries homeless orphan boy. Quite the headline. And as much as he loves Charity, his kind and loving and beautiful wife, he knows that crowd all too well. The silent glares, the spitting, the slurs and the insults. You’d think in twentieth century New York things would be better. But there’s a growing divide between classes and that means a spoiled prodigy writer should not be in his humble home.

 

“Besides, he’s more than just a rich boy, and you know it. We’ve seen his work. You know it’s fantastic.” She sighs and looks at the girls, now using the man as a personal jungle gym, and laughs contentedly, “It’s all the business these days, Phin. A kid like him, gets caught up in the fame and the drinking and the mess of it all. Such a shame. If you had started this show-business crusade at his age you’d have fallen into it too. He’s such a good kid. And he has more talent in his pinky finger alone, but no idea what to do with it.”

 

She looks at him with pleading wide eyes, “We could help him, _you_ could help him. And he could help you—“

 

“I don’t need help from him!”

 

He turned defiantly from his wife and took another look into the kitchen as the boy danced around the table with his youngest daughter, while the older erupted in infectious giggles swinging her feet against the counter-top.

 

“You can’t build the circus over night. And you can’t build it alone. I know you’re gonna try, but I think with his expertise and your wild imagination, you’ll make an instant hit.”

 

“I don’t know, he’s just… not my type.”

 

Charity scoffs, “Hah! He’s a little you in the making. Just look at him! Stick a top hat on the boy…”

 

“I don’t need him.”

 

“You do,” she nods violently. “You’ve been starting up this circus for months now with no luck. I love you and believe in you with my whole heart, but a little push in the right direction could get you where you want to be. Trust me. I have a good feeling about this,” she says sternly, as another joyous squeal erupts from the room next door. “Plus, the girls _love_ him.”

 

So it’s nine am the next morning when Phillip rushes back to the Barnum abode for the “test-run” a reluctant P.T. gives in to for the sake of his wife. But the good-night’s sleep has done nothing to convince him that Phillip can be of any service to him, so with girls who need a babysitter, P.T. knows exactly what job he can start with.

 

“You just want me to sit here all day?” Phillip asks with a tilted smirk as he takes off his jacket.

 

“What is it, Carlyle? Not used to the other side of things?”

 

“I have no problem with the place, sir, but your wife had me under the impression—“

 

“Well it’s not my wife’s show, is it? It’s mine, and what I really need you to be doing is watching my girls so I can get some real work done.” He grabs his keys and calls out the door as a confused Phillip watches, “Caroline’s at dance rehearsals a few blocks down. Helen knows where. Pick up at 2.” And with a firm slam of the door, he’s gone, and there’s nothing more Phillip can do but stare at the door.

 

“Do you know how to make pancakes, Mr. Phillip?”

 

* * *

 

 Phillip does fine taking care of Helen all morning, enjoys it actually, not used to the bright company of people who don’t look at him like he’s supposed to save the world with a pen and paper.  He doesn’t miss the constant buzz of cameras and people and the emptiness of it all, he’ll admit, but he does miss the drink. A juice box does little to fill the ache.

Life wasn’t always this way for Phillip. He wasn’t always alone. But that’s what happens, he guesses, when you’ve got the parents that you do who make you do the things that you do. And suddenly everyone can see you even when you can’t see yourself.

 

By 12, he’s running on no sleep and a hangover and Helen’s an energizer bunny so it’s not long before his eyes are drooping as he lays across the faded flower-print couch with a little girl snuggled into his side, enchanted by the wonders of playhouse Disney on the TV. The last thought he has before he drifts off is that Barnum will pay for this, he’ll pay him for this, at the very least.

 

And by 2:30, when he finally wakes up, he has a feeling he’ll pay for this too.

 

“God, I’m late, oh shit, shoot sorry, Helen, we’re late! C’mon!” He brushes nonexistent dust off his shirt, his pants, tries to ruffle his hair out of it’s sleepy mess, and yawns as he slings a coat over his shoulder. He wraps the littlest Barnum up and grabs her hand with a sprint out the door.

 

“You know where we’re going?” He looks down at her as they run down the apartment building steps, “Oh my god, I’m listening to a seven-year-old for directions.”

 

“Seven and three quarters!” She stops with her hands on her hips.

 

“Seven and three quarters and too little stop me from doing this…” Phillip grins as he tickles the girl at her waist to place her on his hip and run the rest of the steps. He laughter echoes in the tiny staircase. “But really, we forgot your sister at her dance rehearsals and your father already hates me so let’s not make it worse.”

 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Helen says and Phillip gives her a look with raised eyebrows. “Maybe a little.”

 

“Lead the way, Miss Helen.”

 

It doesn’t take long to get to the dance studio, and for that, Phillip is grateful. The streets are crowded and Phillip has never been one to blend in, but for the next ten minutes he does, and for that, he’s even more grateful.

 

Helen finally points out the building and Phillip ushers them up, no time for an elevator.

 

Trial-run, his ass. He better get the job after this.

 

* * *

 

Anne Wheeler loves all her students equally, as any good teacher should. But sometimes, especially on days like today, the Barnum girls take a little extra. Anne knew the family well, years of living the floor right under their apartment required friendship after many consecutive nights of her roof shaking due to the family’s continued antics. And she never minded, her brother slept like a brick and she never liked to sleep early anyway.

 

She moved to the city a few years back with her brother, millions of dreams between them that they were determined to make true. Not many have been crossed off the list in the time that’s passed, but they’re happy. Their little family, just the two of them, all they needed was each other.

 

She taught classes at a dance studio to pay the bills, and hoping to get some little girl the chance to fly across a stage like she always wished she could. Anne had resigned to stop dreaming for herself, but it was impossible to keep the the twinkle in Caroline’s eyes out of her heart.

 

The Barnums always had one thing or another going on, and looking at her now empty room, Anne wasn’t really surprised to have just Caroline left with her waiting, almost an hour past the end of class. She was welcome company, her excited chatter reminding her of a younger version of herself.

 

“Why don’t you do shows anymore, Miss Anne?”

 

“Because,” she started, with a ruffle of the girl’s pink tutu, “I get to teach dancers like you to do shows.”

 

“I know W.D. is gonna be in Daddy’s show. Mom took us to see him practice last week. He goes flying…” Caroline runs across the room, imitating Anne’s brother’s trapeze tricks with her wild imagination.

 

“Well, W.D. is crazy, and still wishes he could be a talented little girl like you.”

 

“You should always do things you love. It’s the best job. That’s why daddy is starting his own show now.”

 

Ah, the Barnum circus. Anne had heard all about it from her delusional brother, who thought he could drop his job and start performing again. She admired him, but this venture was crazy, as crazy as him and the man behind it. P.T. begged her everyday to join her brother in the act, to stop pretending to be someone she’s not and just, come alive with the rush of flying. She missed it. She did. But she was realistic. She was a poor, black dance teacher in the middle of Manhattan. She couldn’t get cast in shows, she wasn’t what people wanted to see, it wasn’t her place.

 

“I like it here, Care. Who would teach you if I ran off and joined the circus? Besides, you’ve never seen me do my tricks, how do you even know if I’m good?”

 

But Caroline never gets the chance to answer, because just then, her eyes light up as she glances at the doorway Anne is standing in, her hip pressed against the frame and her back to whoever is making Caroline smile so widely.

 

Anne barely hears whatever name the girl yells as she runs past her, because as Anne turns to look at their visitor, time literally stands still.

 

She feels her long and bouncy curls whip around with the turn of her head, feels her breath catch in her throat, feels her eyes stuck in a sea of blue ones that stare back at her, intent and poised, mysterious, magical, like a laugh got caught in them and they’ve been waiting for the right person to let it out with, and all she sees is the blue of these eyes, can’t find the courage yet to notice the man they belong to, lets another moment pass in the eternity she shares with the quiet blue eyes that have made her heart do more trapeze stunts than she’s done in the past three years.

 

The eyes blink and time moves again. She doesn’t.

 

“Uh, hi—hi miss, uh, yeah, I’m—“ He stumbles over his words, seemingly lost in the same moment she just experienced. She wondered if her eyes looked anything like his. She couldn’t believe they did.

 

“Phillip. Phillip Carlyle, I know you.” The slight traces of the southerner in her peeking out in her pronunciation of his last name.

 

“Right, yeah, I should’ve guessed.”

 

She clears her throat, oblivious to the girls between them, all she can see is him and his eyes.

 

“Oh, well, I assume you’re the dance teacher. My apologies for the wait.” He chokes out again, seemingly still stuck.

 

“Miss Anne!” Caroline yells.

 

“I told you she was pretty, Mr. Phillip,” Helen whispered non-discreetly, tugging on his pants. Phillip turns an unusual shade of pink and stumbles over apologies again.

 

“I’m sorry, again, it’s my first day on the job and—”

 

“You work for Mr. Barnum?” She questions.

 

“Uh, well, tentatively. Supposed to be on his show, but uh, he’s not a fan. So I’m on little Barnum duty for now, isn’t that right?” The girls giggle as he ruffles Helen’s hair.

 

“I’ve heard about the show. I’m impressed he’s got you in it,” she takes a slight step forward, “What’s your act, Mr. Carlyle?”

 

No one breathes for a moment, his blue eyes blink again, and Anne wishes they never had to so she’d not miss another second of their beautiful blue.

 

“I, uh, I don’t, uh, I don’t have an act,” He says, barely audible, a faint whisper.

 

“Everyone’s got an act.”

 

Silence again. A beautiful silence, just her and Mr. Blue Eyes.

 

“Miss Anne has a brother in daddy’s show. He’s reallllly good!” Caroline says, and Helen nods in agreement.

 

“I hope I get to see him sometime, but seeing as how terribly I botched today’s test-run, I don’t foresee a stay in the circus for too long,” Phillip says.

 

“Circus isn’t for everyone,” she counters, thinking of the long lust of dreams. And in a split second of irrational thinking, dammit those blue eyes, Anne makes a decision.

 

“Well, thanks again, for waiting on us. Let’s get home before your father really kills me.” He grabs the girls by one hand each and starts towards the door.

 

“Hey, Mr. Carlyle?” Anne calls, desperate for another second of his time.

 

He’s enthusiastic to give it, it seems, turning around without hesitation.

 

“I bet if you told Barnum you convinced Anne Wheeler to join his circus, he’d hire you in no time.”

 

A smile creeps up her face and she bites her bottom lip, her arms crossed and heart pounding. His smile echoes hers, his white teeth sparkle with a laugh as he turns again and with a last glance before he heads down the steps, he leans over and non-discreetly whispers back to Helen, “You were right, she _is_ really pretty.”

 

* * *

 

The circus may not be for everyone, but P.T. wants everyone to see his circus. He’s spent all day bouncing from location to location trying to weasel out a cheap stage to rent, and when 5 pm rolls by with still, no sign of success, P.T. is ready to call it quits.

 

Until, he hears that familiar giggle that follows Phillip Carlyle when he’s running around with his girls.

 

“Daddy!” His girls run and leap into his arms, latching onto whatever they can reach and hugging tight. He looks up at the young man.

 

“Charity told me where you were, just on our way back from getting some ice cream and thought we’d stop by,” Phillip strides over, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 

“Good day?” The older asks.

 

“Yeah, pretty good. You’ve got great girls. You?”

 

Barnum says nothing in response, his list of stages black with scribbled out names in dried out pen ink.

 

“Have you tried this place yet?” Phillip nods at the stage doors they’re standing in front of, and Barnum shakes his head.

 

“It’s no use. I’ve got nothing to my name, barely more than a small concept of a show running through my mind, my only potential acts, a solo trapeze artist and a bearded lady!” He throws his hands up in defeat.

 

“Let’s give it one more try. With nothing to your name, we’ve got nothing to lose, right?” and with that, he starts towards the door, holds it open, “After you, Mr. Barnum.”

 

* * *

 

“How did you do that?” P.T. Laughs as he strides out the stage doors, his girls running behind him with Phillip.

 

“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to do in this business. Trying to book a stage is a piece of cake, if you know the right strings to pull. You should’ve told me to come along earlier.” Phillip laughs back, Helen already jumping on his back.

 

The unlikely group walks home together, and Barnum can’t believe how easily he managed to get them the stage, for close to nothing.

 

“You can’t have been doing this for long, no?” P.T. asks again, still in awe of the young man.

 

“Been in the life since I was born, Mr. Barnum. It can get kind of lonely if you don’t try to do something about it.”

 

“And that’s why you’re trying to join my circus?”

 

“I’ll be honest and say, it’s not quite what I had in mind. I was thinking of simply trying my hand at a musical instead of a play, but your wife offered, and where I’m from, you can’t turn any job down if you want to get to the top.”

 

“Forgive me, Mr. Carlyle, but what I can’t seem to understand,” Barnum unlocks their apartment door as they reach it, the girls running inside to see their mother immediately, while the men hang back in the doorway, “is what’s in it for you? Why ruin your life, leave everything you’ve got, for this thing that might not even work?”

 

“I’m sure you know the answer to that,” Phillip says, glancing at a beaming Charity and the girls inside.

 

“It’s a life of passion, of adventure, a life living outside these terrible walls I’ve been trapped in my whole life. There’s barely any room to breathe up here, Mr. Barnum, and I’m sick of it. Your life is something, you’re onto something with this. I can promise you I’ll be a part of this however you need me, even if it’s just to bring your girls to dance class. But believe me when I say, I’ve got what you need, and you’ve got what I need. I’m not gonna make you chase me down if you don’t want me, but I think you do.”

 

P.T. watches the boy’s eyes light up, and it’s true, he can see himself in him. Sees the magic and wonder and excitement all pent up in a boy shoved in the wrong direction. Sure, he was pushed up into the swells of society and Barnum was left alone, at the bottom, on the streets, but he knows they were meant to meet somewhere in the middle, and make some dreams come alive.

 

“Partners?” Phillip reaches out his hand.

 

“I’d say more of an overly-compensated apprentice.”

 

They shake.

 

“I know the place is tight, but we’ve got more than enough room for you to stay for dinner, if you’d like.” P.T. shows Phillip inside.

 

“Thanks, Mr. Barnum,” Phillip steps into the comfortable house, already feeling a little like home, “Oh, and, by the way, I’ve got you a new act, her name’s Anne Wheeler…”

 

* * *

 


	2. A Moment in Blush

 

 

* * *

She stood in the doorway of her small studio room watching the staircase with a glint in her eye for several moments after the Barnum girls and their Mr. Blue Eyes had gone.

 

Then she promptly snapped herself out of it, shook her head in disbelief with a small chuckle and felt the curls bounce across her back as she turned back to her room.

 

Anne was outside her apartment door by 7, already unbuttoning her thrift-shop purple coat and unraveling her cozy pink scarf before her brother opened the door. After moments with no answer, she knocked again furiously. “C’mon, W.D. open up. I forgot my key!”

 

Another moment passed before the door finally swung open, but not to W.D.

 

“Annie’s home!”

 

Lettie Lutz, her brother’s best friend and other half, yelled from the doorway before wrapping Anne into a bone crushing hug.

 

“How ya doin’, Lettie?” Anne breathed out through the comforting squeeze.

 

“Since when do you work so late? Had us worried sick!” Lettie ushers her inside to where she finds her brother already cozied up on the couch, two glasses of wine perched on their little coffee table in front of a glowing TV.

 

“You seem absolutely distraught.” She deadpans, making her way towards the refrigerator.

 

“Good day at work?” Her brother calls from the couch.

 

Anne is grateful neither can see her face from here, because it turns a bright shade of blushing. “Yeah, it was okay,” is all she replies, trying to hide the giggle that threatens to erupt at the end.

 

She grabs a bottle of water and starts toward the couch where her brother and friend have settled. W.D. met Lettie working in a seamstress shop downtown when Anne pressured him to get a job after close to a year of failed auditions. Been inseparable ever since, thick and thieves, and mischievous too. She doesn’t like to go out much, spends so much time in their apartment she might as well live there. Anne enjoys the company, has grown to love the woman like the big sister she always wanted. Anne can get trapped in her own stubbornness sometimes, and is glad Lettie keeps spirits light for both her sake and her brothers.

 

Her brother’s voice snaps her out her thoughts as he asks, “Care to join us tonight?”

 

“You want me to join ladies’ wine night? Wow, W.D. did you fall on your head today?” She chuckles as her brother pulls her down next to him with smirk.

 

“Oh shut up, you. Just because you’re no fun doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun ourselves.”

 

“I’ll drink to that!” Lettie raises her glass and clinks the clear edge with W.D.’s. “Besides, we could use the extra company. Charity bailed on us for some rich bloke upstairs,” she sighs, taking a sip.

 

Charity became friends with the pair after being a loyal and frequent customer over the years. She wasn’t like most of the people they worked for—she was kind and empathetic, looked at them like people with lives and feelings and hearts. Anne would never get used to the sight of Charity Barnum sitting on her couch sipping wine and watching TLC with Lettie and her brother on Friday nights, no matter how wonderful and motherly she was to them all. She was a good exception in a sea of hatred for differences.

 

“Yeah, he waltzes in for dinner and suddenly Charity’s like, ‘oh, wine night? Who is she?’ Lord, is nothing sacred anymore?” W.D. throws his head back behind him and the girls laugh.

 

“She was very sorry to miss out, but I do agree, this boy better be so hot she’d leave Circus Boy for him to be missing our night.”

 

“Who’s the boy you’re all so worked up over?” Anne questions, taking grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip.

 

“Phillip Carlyle.”

 

Anne almost spits out her drink and her face goes blank.

 

“Annie, honey, you seein’ ghosts?” Lettie laughs.

 

Anne shakes her head. Her stomach does the trapeze trick again and ties itself into knots.

 

“No, but I’ve seen him. And I can vouch for Charity… definitely hot.”

 

Her brother throws a pillow at her that she narrowly dodges while the whole apartment explodes in a giggle fit. Lettie demands details immediately but Anne suddenly feels the urge to duct tape her mouth shut and never speak again.

 

“No way! You two are gonna blow anything I say way out of proportion,” Anne yells to a pleading Lettie.

 

“You can’t drop a bomb on us like that and leave it! Spill, girlfriend!!!!”

 

Anne gets lost in the excitement for a moment, feels like a high school girl telling her friends about the boy from calculus and they’ll braid each others hair and plan what Anne wears to the first date and he’ll show up magically at their door with a bouquet of flowers and he’ll sweep her off her feet with a kiss and…

 

Anne needs to put a stop to this.

 

“He’s working for the Barnums now, showed up to pick up Caroline from dance class and we… we just said hi and that was it.”

 

“Oh my god, Annie has a crush!”

 

“I do not!” She punches her brother and looks away, trying to convince herself of that very fact. “Look, we talked for all of 3 minutes, maybe, at the most. He’s good looking and he was nice when I met him but you know guys like that… rich, elite, can do whatever they want with whatever they want. No time for the dance teacher.”

 

“Honey, no one can resist a dance teacher that looks like you, I don’t care how much money he has weighing down his pockets,” Lettie says, throwing back another sip of her drink.

 

“Well, I’m telling you it’s nothing. Even if I wanted it to be something, which I don’t,” ( _lies!_ ) “It _can’t_ be anything. We’re different people from different places, no matter how pretty we both are.” But she wants to believe he’s different than that. His eyes alone told her more than that. “Besides, if you don’t believe me, you can see for yourselves soon. He’s our new boss.”

 

* * *

 

“Phillip, do you _have_ to go?” Helen whines with pleading eyes as she attempts to drag her new best friend by his pants-leg back through the door.

 

“I’ll be back in the morning, bright and early, I pinky promise,” he winks down at the young girl, fastening his jacket.

 

“Yes, he will, indeed. And every morning after that until he gets sick of us,” Barnum laughs, a changed man since dinner with the young socialite that he was once skeptical to bring on-board.

 

“Well seeing as there is never a shortage of magic in this home,” Phillip starts, and picks Helen up for one last hug and a spin, “I have a feeling I’ll be around for quite some time.” He gives the girl a quick kiss on the forehead that sends her running behind her mother's leg, a bright shade of embarrassed and giggling, and with a last wave, Phillip heads out the door for the night.

 

The day had been a lot for the young man to take in, his life changing literally overnight, launching him into the world of fantasy and adventure that is the Barnums. Strange how, in just one day’s time, those people and this place felt more like home than any mansion or penthouse or long list of celebrity acquaintances ever had. Phillip smiled at the thought, _finally,_ a family of his own.

 

His parents had never neglected him, at least at first. Phillip was merely a distraction in their game to socially advance in New York's elite society. As he got older, he got more useful, talented as he was, making strides by the minute as the prodigal playwright. It was fun at first, he loved the write, loved the magic of the theater, how easily he got lost in the stories of his head, how other people had the chance to see inside him. He liked the parties for a while, the people, the fame, but it got old quick. He grew irritable, fast to snap at a flashing camera in his face or a person out of place.

 

He didn't like who he'd become. It didn't feel right. It wasn't the show business he got into. And his parents grew less affectionate by the minute, seeking his money rather than his love. For the past few years, he’d learned to drown it out in a drink.

 

But being with the Barnum girls, eating dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Barnum, having people ask about his day, his favorite color, his favorite book, getting to listen to stories of others, to feel a part of something once again—that's what Phillip had always dreamed of having. More than fame, more than wealth, Phillip just wanted a family.

 

And the dance teacher? Not a bad part of the deal either.

 

He stepped into the elevator, buzzing with excitement from the day. But if he’s being honest, it was mostly from the thought of the chestnut brown locks that bounced when she laughed. God, _that laugh._

He swears the memory is vivid he can hear her as he steps off the elevator when the doors slide open. Lost in a lovesick daydream, he’s barely paying attention to where he’s going and…

 

“SHIT, dude! Watch where you’re—”

 

He gets a face-full of bouncy brown locks.

 

Is it bad he still thinks she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, face red with rage and all?

 

“Oh my god, oh my god, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to yell like that,” thoroughly embarrassed, throwing a hand up over her mouth and taking a step back.

 

Phillip, still at a loss for words around her, barely manages to choke out, “No worries, I’ve yelled worse things to my coffee table when it runs into my toe.”

 

Anne laughs and looks up at him, he feels her gaze through his whole body, a twinkle in her eyes and she locks hers with his. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” she chuckles.

 

“What do you mean, you don’t normally run into your students’ babysitter on the way out of an apartment building? That’s how I meet all the girls.”

 

Anne shakes her head, and god, _that laugh_ , Phillip could write a twelve-part series of plays on this. “Heard you were with the Barnums. My brother’s upset you kept Charity from them on wine night.” Phillip lifts his chin in understanding and breaks out an infectious smile. Anne catches it and shakes her head.

 

“Ah, I see. Never been much of a wine person.”

 

“Didn’t peg you as one.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phillip challenges with a smirk, and Anne throws her hands up in defense.

 

“Hey, don’t look at me, not my thing either.”

 

“I’ve always preferred to do my Friday night binges on the couch with a big plate of…”

 

“Chinese take-out!” They both yell in chorus, before collapsing in giggles.

 

“I knew there was something I liked about you,” Phillip says, taking a step closer to the girl, who has invented a new shade of blushing altogether. “Well, next time, we send your brother up with Charity, and me and you have a proper wine night for ourselves. Minus the wine.”

 

Something about being around Anne, though time has been short, has made him feel high up in the air, fearless, determined, weightless. And he takes the way she looks at his eyes as a good sign she’s flying just as high.

 

“I know it’s a short commute, but, can I walk you home?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m up a few flights of steps. Go home, you’ve had a long day.”

 

“Hah, you can say that again.”

 

“Welcome to the circus, Phillip Carlyle.”

 

“Glad to be a part of it, Anne Wheeler.”

 

* * *

 

Anne, for the first time in years, suddenly feels like a morning person. She’s up and showered and dressed in record time, eager to get to the stage for the first meeting about the circus.

 

“I still can’t believe all it took was a set of blue eyes to convince you to join us. You’ve got it bad Annie girl,” W.D. chuckles as the siblings make their way to the stage.

 

“That’s not the reason in the slightest,” Anne counters, defiantly, trying to hide the smile that creeps up her face, “No, I just remembered why we moved to the city in the first place and all the performing I wanted to do, and realized I should do it while I still have the chance.” W.D. opens the door for his sister and she steps inside to worn down theater, unbuttoning her coat.

 

“Wheelers, get over here!” Barnum calls from the center of the room where he sits with Lettie and his girls and papers strewn across the floor in every direction.

 

“Oh lord, the man’s been dreaming again. Brace yourself, sister.” W.D. pats Anne on the back as they stride towards the others.

 

“Okay, perfect,” Barnum says, sliding papers around the floor. Almost absentmindedly, he calls, “Phillip, come on down, we’re all here,” and within an instant, the face Anne couldn’t clear from her mind all night runs down the theater steps and meets them in the center.

 

“So, what’ve we got?” he says, reaching Barnum and crouching down to level with him on the floor. Anne thinks she imagines the wink he shoots her before focusing down on papers, but when she feels W.D.’s elbow just her in the side, she knows she’s not imagining.

 

“Annie, you did not do the man justice!” he whisper-yells at her, staring at Phillip with a dropped-jaw, “You sure he’s straight?”

 

He’s not very discreet, as Lettie hears him and almost doubles over laughing. Anne bites her lip, holding back a laugh and furious at the same time.

 

“He’s right, Anne. Better test him out before your brother snatches him up. That’s one _fine_ looking boy,” Lettie cackles on Anne’s other side and she shoots daggers back.

 

“Shut up, he’s not deaf!”

 

“I want the best acts you can find, anything that makes people look twice at us,” Barnum says, snapping the trio out of their laughing fit.

 

“Find more people like us, and you’ll have them looking three times,” Lettie laughs back at Barnum, who buries his head back in the plans and shoves a pile to Phillip, who is now standing and pacing back and forth.

 

“We need to tell a story, be different, be bold, I just don’t see how…” Barnum ruffles his hair, distraught.

 

“No, Barnum, I see it. I get it,” Phillip muses, still pacing.

 

“Well, we know everyone’s got an act, let’s make the people see it. Just don’t wanna rely too much on controversy,” Anne offers, playing with the hem of her practice shirt.

 

“Say that again!” Barnum stops short, looks right at Anne.

 

“Everyone’s got an—” she starts, confused.

 

“No no no, after that…” Barnum waves his hand, eager.

 

“Don’t want to be relying on controversy?”

 

“Exactly!” He stands up, excitedly, meets Phillip with paper, “I don’t want to rely on controversy, I want to _thrive_ on it. Make people see what they never dared to see, parts of them they didn’t know existed because they’ve been hiding. Things, things, that no one has ever put into the light. Yes, I can work with this!” He shouts again, running around the stage.

 

“Here,” He points to stage left, “the trapeze stands, Anne, you swing towards the floor, brush your feet right over…” He runs down, jumps up excitedly, “The worlds tallest man! Or the shortest one, I don’t care, we’ll have them both! And over here,” He runs closer the to them, back to center stage, “Lettie, belts out a show-stopping hit while we have men throwing fire and walking on their hands, heck, let’s throw an elephant in stage right,” Barnum is spitting ideas left and right, running around the stage, and suddenly, a show starts to take shape, suddenly much more than a figment of his imagination.

 

“I like how you think, Barnum,” Lettie joins him, takes her spot center stage, as W.D. drags Anne with him to find the best spots for their trapeze equipment, Helen and Caroline dance off to the side, already envisioning the lights and the wonder this show can bring.

 

Barnum strides over to Phillip, who seems at a loss for words, trying to soak it all in, let himself escape to the world Barnum is creating.

 

“So, what do you say, Carlyle? You find me the oddest array of oddities our great country has to offer, and we make some magic happen?”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the love, everyone! Was nervous to do this but am so glad I did, having so much fun with these stories and these characters. Going to be kind of Anne and Phillip centric, if you couldn't tell (i have an obsession sorry). I'll definitely continue to develop all the characters though, don't worry! 
> 
> Will keep moving through the story slowly, see where it goes, idk, I'm an all-over-the-place kind of writer. 
> 
> Thanks again for the love on the first chapter, i am so excited for the rest of this!!!


	3. A Moment in Midnight

* * *

 

“Now _that’s_ how you open a show!”

 

“Are you sure? Don’t wanna just scale back that fire, or the noise, maybe, just a little…”

 

“Stop being such a downer, Carlyle,” Lettie laughs as she swings her arms around him and pats the young man on the back, “Live a little, wipe that sour look off your face and come have lunch with us.” The group of performers rushed together, from high up in the trapeze to the outskirts of the ring.

 

“So you really don’t like the fire?” Barnum questions, hopping over the ring to join them.

 

“No, it’s…” Phillip trails and looks at the beaming faces of Barnum and their newly hired performers, “Yeah, maybe we just have me stick to the books and the numbers, and you take the lead on everything else.”

 

Phillip could barely believe how much progress they had made in just a few short weeks. Their empty arena has seemingly exploded overnight in colors and lights and music.

 

To say Phillip was still adjusting would be an understatement.

 

He joined Barnum on all the casting calls and auditions but didn’t feel he was much help. Barnum had the vision, not him. He knew logic reason, and he loved plans… Barnum loved whimsy, and that his show was. Not everyone was just ready to jump on board, but Barnum was convincing. They searched every corner of New York for the best and the brightest, and Phillip had to admit, it was a talented bunch.

 

He was eager to get to work, planned out the set-up to the last penny, like he was trained to do, and Barnum never stops thanking him for all his help. Seriously, the man practically worships the ground he walks on, all for a few numbers on a spreadsheet, a typed up set list, and a few trips to the dance studio with his girls.

 

But as Phillip looks around at the dreamy world they’ve created around him, he can’t help but feel so… useless.

 

“Don’t worry about it, son. We’ve got a packed show for Friday, thanks to you,” he tips off his hat and flashes them a smile, “Fantastic work today, everyone, ya know, take the rest of the day. We’ll meet up early in the morning tomorrow for a full run though before opening day.”

 

“So, Phillip, looks like you can’t make up a lame excuse to ditch us this time,” W.D. laughs as he runs over, “Annie’s too stubborn to beg, but I ain’t too stubborn to do it for her.”

 

“Oh, yeah, thanks guys, but I really should be heading out, I pick up Caroline and Helen on Wednesdays and—” He mumbles as Lettie glares.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Phil, I got the girls. Go be a kid for once, and I don’t wanna hear that all the seats filled up before you sat down and you were at the end of the table. Suck it up and sit next to Anne,” he waves with a wink on his way out past them with jaws dropped in either laughter (W.D. and Lettie) or bright red embarrassment (Phillip, definitely Phillip). “I see you kid, we all do.”

 

“Guess I’m coming to lunch?”

 

* * *

 

Anne was not the social one. That was always W.D.

 

It was not her idea to invite the entire cast back to their apartment after their late lunch. It was most certainly W.D.’s.

 

So no one should have expected her to do any more than sit on the couch and quietly observe.

 

Over the past few weeks Anne had become much more daring than ever before, and not in the trapeze kind of way. There was no feeling quite as terrifying, not even a straight drop down from a swing with no net, as the feeling of _making friends._ It came easy to her brother, and seeing as their act made them a packaged deal, Anne had no shortage of friendships to be made. And Lettie helped.

 

“Hey, Little Wheeler, what’s got you brooding in a corner?” Lettie strode over and sat down next to her.

 

“You know I don’t like when you call me Little Wheeler,” she rolls her eyes.

 

“But you’re my little girl!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, what do you want?”

 

“Why you always gotta accuse me of something. Just wanted to talk. You still like being in the show?”

 

“Of course, I never wanted to admit it, but I think you and my brother were right.”

 

“Oh, I knew it was coming one day!”

 

“Don’t let it get to you, I just, I dunno, I like it here, with all of you guys, even if I’m broody and don’t show it.”

 

“Don’t worry, I always stick up for you, girl. You obviously save all that beautiful charm for your performances. You truly are one of the best ones in here.”

 

“No, Lettie…”

 

“Stop it, Little Wheeler, I’m serious! You light up the whole room when you’re flying, so don’t let your brother bully you into making more friends.”

 

“I have friends!” Anne says defensively, laughing at Lettie.

 

“No need to explain it to me. The whole cast really likes you, some more than others if you know what I’m saying…” Lettie looks across the room and nudges Anne on the shoulder.

 

“Okay, no, Lettie, _no,_ this can’t be the only thing we talk about ever, okay?” Anne sighs as she follows Lettie’s eyes, catches a glimpse of a certain young playwright. “What happened to talking about my dull personality, or you know, I’d even rather talk about that time in practice that my costume ripped that you all found so hilarious.”

 

“Alright Annie girl, I get it. But if you’re still looking like a kicked puppy over here in ten minutes, then I’m coming back and we’re _talking_ about it.”

 

“I thought you told me I was okay over here!” Anne stands up, objecting, as Lettie starts to walk away.

 

“I changed my mind,” She smirks with a twinkle in her eyes and joins a group of girls in the kitchen.

 

Anne is left standing in her corner, a nice change of scenery from sitting, and almost musters up the courage to go join the crowd.

 

But just a few seconds later, someone (someone with very attractive blue eyes, specifically) saves her from her terribly social lapse in judgment.

 

* * *

 

“You okay there, Carlyle?” Anne calls, her hair bouncing behind her. Phillip grabs the last rung on the ladder and swings up on the roof.

 

“You know, when I said we should escape,” he lets out a huff of breath as he joins Anne in the center, “I didn’t mean we should use the _fire_ escape.”

 

“All you do is watch us run around performing all day, you could use a little cardio in your life.” She laughs, walking towards the setting sun.

 

“True, I could never do what the whole cast does, especially not what you do,” He takes a step forward and brushes against her shoulder as she peeks over the side, then quickly takes a step back, “Have I mentioned that I have an insanely irrational fear of heights?”

 

“So there is a flaw in you somewhere!” She laughs, hopping up to sit on the ledge of the roof. Phillip visibly pales in horror. Anne looks at him, the right side of her mouth twisted up in an accidental smile, and decides to join him further away from the edge. “I’m up here all the time and nothing’s ever happened to me. You’ll be fine.”

 

“Easy for you to say! You take death drops from the air willingly!”

 

“Well I’m not completely fearless. Heights just don’t bother me. I love the adrenaline, the rush, the lights and the buzz,” she takes a seat and Phillip follows, her knees tucked under her chin and her arms propped behind her. She looks up at the sunset and sighs, “But you get it, don’t you, I’m sure I’d practically die at the excitement of having my own show performed for thousands of people.”

 

Phillip thinks about his last play, a dark and dreary drama he’d been pressured to write, and while he thinks he understands the feeling Anne is talking about, he knows he doesn’t feel it at the end of a show.

 

When he gives no answer, Anne looks over at him and says “Well, I’ve never been much of a writer, but I hear you are. So it has to be at least a little exciting. Like the training trapeze bars W.D. used to make me use.”

 

He turns to her and shrugs, “It’s not as fun as you’d imagine.”

 

“Really?” She scoffs, “Always looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

 

“The power of a good drink, Anne. Dulls the pain but also the pleasure. That’s just the cost of fame, I suppose.”

 

“I haven’t noticed you drinking around our show.”

 

“You don’t see me sitting in the office after Barnum adds 12 fire blasters to the set. Or 4 elephants,” he looks at her, wide eyed.

 

“You handle it well. I’d have no hair left if I were you.”

 

“Like I said, power of a drink. Though I do wish I could stop.”

 

Anne tilts her head and looks at him. Phillip Carlyle, a true enigma of a man. It was like he had two different people stuffed inside him. She’s seen him carefree and happy, daring, bright. And then other times he’d be cooped up in the office shaking his head, face pale and forehead scrunched in frustration. He stood in the wings, simply observed the show while P.T. screamed at performers left and right. He’d laugh and join them, but there Phillip sat. Just observing.

 

“Well, why’d you want to join the circus if you hate show business so much?” she challenged.

 

He looked over at her puzzled, stretched his legs out in front of him and stared at the slowly dimming sky, the last bits of sunlight slipping away. “I don’t really know, something felt different, I guess. But once I got there, I realized no matter how many top hats P.T. would throw at me, or how many crazy show tunes I timed to the set, I’m still the snobby rich kid with no personality.” Anne laughed beside him. “What’s so funny?” he nervously laughed along with her.

 

“I don’t know, you just, you don’t strike me as a no personality-type of person. You’re way to charming for that.”

 

“Thank you, I think?” He laughs again.

 

“You know what I mean!”

 

“You know, I don’t think I do.”

 

“Well, for starters, you’re the only one Barnum will listen to. I told him fireworks were fire hazards weeks before you did and he insisted they’d be fine. But as soon as you said no, he backed off.”

 

Phillip smiled at the memory. “I guess I do know my way around a ringmaster or two.”

 

“Also, there’s all the investors, the companies we use for props and sets. Wouldn’t give us a second look if it weren’t for you. All those free posters you got thrown in with the advertising order. Don’t underestimate the power of that smile of yours,” she mimics a big cheesy smile, laughing through her teeth.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Phillip shouts, flashing her said smile.

 

She shakes her head and spins her body to face him, “And Lettie may look big and tough, but she’s a softie. Had been trying to get you to hang out with us since the day she met you. Not to mention Barnum’s daughters, founders of the Carlyle fan club.”

 

“I didn’t know I had a fan club.”

 

“Of course you do, I happen to be a proud member.” She giggles, and as soon as she says it, she regrets it, feeling her cheeks heat up. She tucks her chin and suddenly becomes very interested in the concrete floor beneath her.

 

“Well, not that you asked or anything, but I happen to be president of the Anne Wheeler fan club.”

 

She suddenly looks back up at him, eyes wide and smile wider. Truly an enigma. An enigma with the most beautiful blue eyes. She feels the moment stretch out forever, like the moment they met in the dance studio, like the space between them is barely there despite their physical distance.

 

She loses track of how long they spend up there, up on the roof in their own little world, talking like old friends and new lovers all at once. It feels easy, smooth, like gliding through the air on a good day of practice, some of her favorite times to be on the trapeze. And looking at him as the first few stars start to peek out in the now darkened sky, she has a thought.

 

“You should try the trapeze with me one day.”

 

“Have you lost your mind?” He laughs at her incredulously, “Anne, it is taking everything in me to not scream at the top of my lungs out of fear just sitting up here right now.”

 

“I’ll take you with me, I promise I wouldn’t drop you.”

 

“Gee, thanks.”

 

“C’mon, Phil, there seriously is no better way to see the circus than from up in the air.” She stares at his eyes intensely, feels herself instinctively leaning closer and doesn’t know why. “Maybe it’ll get you out from hiding on the side of the stage.”

 

“For the record,” he starts, and she senses him leaning closer slowly, too, “I’m pretty sure I found you hiding out in the corner just a few hours ago.”

 

“And you showed me how much better it is to not be a loner. Only fair I return the favor,” she says, eyebrows raised and eyes twinkling. “We can try to practice right now,” she stands up quickly and runs to the side of the roof.

 

“Anne, no way, don’t you—” He screams standing up and running to catch her.

 

But she’s too fast, she hops up and stands on the ledge and watches Phillips eyes grow wide in fear. “Anne, please, I’m gonna have a heart attack. Just, come down.”

 

And all of a sudden, Anne feels very daring. “Make me, Carlyle,” she points to the ledge next to her.

 

He looks up at her, tilts his head, then squeezes his eyes tight and starts to pace back and forth.

 

“It’s not that bad, just hop up and it’ll be over,” he shakes his head again, she laughs, “I’m doing this for your own good.”

 

“We are about a million feet in the air right now. No way.”

 

“Phil, I know I’m not as scholarly as you, but I doubt there’s a million feet between us and the ground.”

 

“You know what I mean, just, don’t, please. You’re scaring me up there.” He turns to face her now, more petrified than before.

 

“C’mon,” she whines, “Suck it up, pretty boy.” When he still doesn’t budge, she looks him dead in the eye and says something that takes more courage than the hardest trapeze trick she’s ever tried: “I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” She extends her right hand out towards him. He looks at it puzzled, then lets out a weak laugh.

 

“Anne Wheeler, I have done my fair share of flirting, and I have never had a girl lure me to my certain death just to hold hands.”

 

Her stomach does a back flip.

 

“I’m not flirting, just being supportive,” She says, defensively.

 

He gives her another look, and though she stares back challengingly, her hand is still stretched out for him.

 

“You gonna hold it or not, Carlyle? Last offer.”

 

“You take hard to get to a whole new level, Wheeler.” He squeezes his eyes shut one more time, and with his eyes still closed, grabs her hand tight, and takes a long deep breath. Then tentatively, peeking through one scared and squinting eye, puts one foot up on the ledge, then the other.

 

“Look at you! A regular stunt man!” She takes her left and and grabs his other, and tells herself it’s just to steady him more (though she can barely fool herself, she knows she just likes the feeling).

 

“I don’t know if this is going to make me appreciate the circus more, or just make me shake in fear at the sight remembering this moment.”

 

“Oh, be quiet. I know for a fact that all you’re thinking about is how to make your next move, charmer.”

 

“You _are_ a pretty good distraction from the million feet I could fall if I step the wrong way.”

 

“Oh, really? I must be a distraction when you’re sulking in the corner during show rehearsals too. You’re my most loyal audience so far.”

 

“Still not flirting?” he challenges, eyebrows raised, holding her hands a little tighter.

 

She looks up at the now twinkling sky, wishes she could live in this midnight bliss forever.

 

“Wanna take a step down yet, Carlyle?”

 

“I’m gonna suck it up for a few more seconds. You never know when you’ll let me hold your hands again.”

 

And Anne, always up for a challenge, looks him square in the eyes and says, “Oh, you’d be surprised. You’re warming me up to this flirting thing.”

* * *

 


	4. A Moment in Light

* * *

 

“If you keep walking around like that, there’s gonna be an earthquake before the show can even start!” Caroline called up to her mother as she paced back and forth in front of their row of seats inside the Barnum theater.

 

“Mama, if you come sit with me you can eat some of my popcorn!” Helen echoed after her sister, but Charity looked intently up at the ceiling wringing her hands.

 

“Thank you girls, thank you. I just want everything to work out for your dad here and this whole thing is so insane and how am I just realizing this now and… did you say popcorn?” She snaps her head around to face her bright eyed and smiling girls sitting behind her.

 

“And peanuts!” Helen yells through a giant smile stuffed with salty treats.

 

“Mr. Phillip bought them for us.”

 

“That was very nice of him,” Charity sighs softly as she joins them, sitting, but still finds herself shaking her legs to the buzz of the excited chatter exploding around the stage. And through gritted teeth she adds, “I’m glad he had time to buy you snacks when he has a show to run.”

 

“He said a happy audience makes for a happy broffet.”

 

“It’s _profit,_ Helen!”

 

“What did I say?”

 

Charity laughs as her girls’ bicker beside her in between mouthfuls of popcorn, all while she sits and lets her stomach tie itself in knots. She knows her husband inside and out, knows how hard Phin and the cast worked on the show, and she has total faith in his charm and wit and talent and absolute ability to pull all these shenanigans off but… _she knows her husband inside and out._

 

She’s been a nervous wreck all day.

 

He had been spending a lot of time at the theater, practicing to get his show perfect, which she never minded, except that it meant less time he could tell Charity what they were planning, and the less she knew, the more nervous she became.

 

She knew this would be a tough crowd to please. The cast, though charming and wonderful when you got to know them, as Charity had very much enjoyed and looked forward to doing each day as their show came together, on the outside they all looked very… unique? Charity grew up in the presence of the rich and elite, all of whom looked and sounded exactly the same. She loved the life she lived now, felt much more at home here, but she warned her husband about certain audiences, and knew Phillip would keep the same things in mind.

 

However, when Phineas’ imagination could run free, it went in a full on sprint.

 

She wanted so badly for it to succeed, not just for her own peace of mind and economic stability, but for all the people involved, for the time they put into it, and all it meant for them. Her girls had blind faith in the show, thought it was the greatest show in the world, and their pure and innocent joy always made Charity’s heart swell. But she knew there was a lot more riding on this, a lot more to what just putting on this show in the climate of their society meant.

 

She saw the lights flash backstage at the ten-minute mark, a signal Phineas had actually had time to tell her about, and realized all that was left to do was to cross her fingers under her seat and eat some popcorn.

 

“Helen, look! Daddy’s wearing a sparkly jacket!” Caroline doubled over in laughter at her seat as Helen stood on her tip-toes to see what her sister could. She quickly joined in on the laughter, and Phineas, bless his heart, definitely noticed. He caught the girls’ eyes and did a little twirl from behind the curtain and tipped his hat to them, sending them into even deeper hysterics. One last wink at Charity, and the ringmaster disappeared.

 

God, she hoped this worked.

 

* * *

 

“Ten minutes, everyone!”

 

“Barnum, the point of the signal was so that we _didn’t_ have to scream at everyone.”

 

“Right, well, call me old fashioned,” Barnum flashes Phillip a smile as he throws the curtain closed and yells again to the open backstage area, “I want everyone back here at the five before we set up for the opening act. Little Phil’s gonna make a speech,” he pats Phillip on the shoulder and runs off to hurry along some of the other performers, leaving “little Phil” with a jaw hung open and a buzzing brain.

 

He was certainly _not_ giving a speech.

 

He shakes his head and walks away from the curtain, closer to the dressing rooms the performers were waiting in and brushes past W.D.

 

“Woah, Carlyle, what’s gotten into you? Last I checked you get to watch this whole thing go down from the comfort of the wings.” W.D. laughs as he stops Phillip from his fast-paced panicking.

 

“Nothing, have you seen Anne?” He adds, hurriedly.

 

“I was about to ask you the same. Her wig is still sitting in the dressing room and I figured the only thing that could be more important than getting ready for our big debut would be…” His voice trails at the end as he looks into Phillips eyes. “Ah, dammit, you know, one day Carlyle, I’m gonna prove to you that you picked the wrong Wheeler, I’m just saying.”

 

Phillip laughs, genuinely, and says, “Oh don’t worry, I already know you’d make my life much easier, W.D.”

 

“Fantastic, so, it’s a date?”

 

“Wow, giving up on me so fast!” A head of bouncy brown curls pops up behind W.D.’s frame.

 

“So close, Annie, I was _so_ close.” He shakes his head and starts to walk towards the curtains where the performers are starting to assemble. “You two can deal with each other’s craziness. You need some pink hair and you,” he turns towards Phillip, “need to chill. It’s gonna be fantastic. I believe in you ridiculously even if you’d rather date my sister.”

 

In a second he’s gone and Anne and Phillip are left face to face. A moment passes in silence (but not really because the theater is going _wild_ just 7 minutes to curtain) and Anne tucks her chin and smiles. “Would you care to help me put on my pink hair, kind sir?”

 

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

She twirls around and runs into her dressing room, Phillip following behind, “So this is where the magic happens.”

 

“Stop being mushy and help me put this on. My lion’s mane has a mind of it’s own and I can’t see the back of my head.” Anne picks up the pinned-up pink hair and reaches a hand out to Phillip.

 

“Alright, gimme a second, I’m not used to wigs being a part of my boyfriend duties.” He peeks around catches her eyes in the mirror.

 

“You’re not my boyfriend,” She laughs, with a smile.

 

“I’m hoping if I say it enough you’ll finally agree.”

 

“You’re not my boyfriend, _yet._ ”

 

“I’ll take it, I’ll take it.” He sighs and picks up the wig and follows Anne’s careful instructions to put it on. “I don’t wanna be blamed if this thing flies off during your performance.”

 

“It’s perfect.” Anne smoothens her pink hair in the mirror and turns around to face Phillip, their bodies close and their faces less than a few inches apart. “Just for the record, I believe in you more than W.D. does. So just, don’t date him before I let you date me.”

 

“You know, I wasn’t planning on it.”

 

“Good. I can swing easy now,” She laughs and grabs his hand running out of the dressing room., then with a wink adds, “Let’s go, don’t wanna miss your speech.”

 

“Hey,” he stops her before they reach the crowd, “I believe in you too.”

 

“You better not be saying this to get out of—”

 

“Anne, we both know Barnum was never letting me make that speech. He’s had his victory chant written since the day we booked this place.”

 

She chuckles and turns to grab his other hand. “Well then, thanks. Promise you’ll be watching me? I’m starting to think your blue eyes are good luck or something,” she blushes.

 

The lights flash again—five minutes to curtain.

 

“Stop being mushy and go kick some ass out there, Wheeler.”

 

“You didn’t promise!”

 

“I promise! I promise, Anne Wheeler!” He yells, catching a side eye from W.D. across the room, and nervously whispers, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

Anne’s chest swells with excitement and a little something else (they call it _love_ , she thinks) and smirks at her favorite set of blue eyes once more while saying, “Consider their asses already kicked, Carlyle.”

 

She turns and runs to join the group, squeezing into a spot between her brother and Lettie, and Phillip can only laugh as he sprints to catch up, Barnum’s arm around his shoulder. “Care to start us off, Phillip? Just a second and then I’m taking over,” Barnum laughs and slaps his top hat on Phillip’s head.

 

Phillip shakes his head and looks around at the beautifully, wonderfully, bizarre cast of characters they’re gathered. He couldn’t be more proud. “Well, guys, I think it’s safe to say this is the moment we’ve waited for…”

 

* * *

 

The show passes quickly in a blur of lights and sound and color and—

 

_It catches his breath in an instant._

 

His nerves are only so bad because he wants it to work so bad and it does, it does—

 

_Something makes the noise surrounding him feel muffled._

Barnum looks like a regular showman, he knows this is exactly where he’s meant to be, right in the eye of the sound and the color and the—

 

_Lights. They’re everywhere. He sees the world differently from up here, she was right, just not in the way she meant it._

He laughs the whole show, he can’t believe they actually did it. The crowd goes wild and all he can hear is—

 

_He promised he’d watch. He’s watching. He just doesn’t know what it is he’s watching._

Charles commands the ring with ease, the albino twins are mesmerizing, the audience can’t get enough of the “Tallest Man on Earth”, the “Biggest Man on Earth”, even the “Hairiest Man on Earth”, and Lettie, god, her sweet voice makes him melt, and then there’s—

 

_She consumed him. Her presence, so subtle and fleeting, but meant only for him. It was too fast, too fast, and all so slow._

He barely hears the applause its so deafening. There are so many people in the middle of that ring, and this snooty socialite, goddammit, he loves them all exactly the way they are. This show will change him and—

 

_The moment lasts forever, the light just right behind her pink wig that he so proudly helped her with. He did that. He is a part of her and she is a part of him. All in just a moment._

He has a soft spot for Barnum’s girls. Nothing hits him quite like the sight of their beaming faces as the cast takes their final bows. They see him in the wings and though he can’t hear, sees them scream at him to run out in the ring and join the cast. They are so proud of their babysitter showman.

 

_And all at once, he exhales._

He stays in the wings and loves his view. He’ll take the shadows for now. They deserve the light. He wants to give them all the light in the world.

 

_But for her, all she sees is blue. He kept good on his promise. She swings._

Someone in the center of the ring with bright pink hair blows him a kiss.

 

(They call it love, he thinks.)

 

* * *

 

“This is the greatest day ever!” Barnum screams as he chases his girls up the stairs rounding towards their apartment.

 

Their giggles are infectious, their little feet bouncing to the rhythm of the finale song their mother hums as she unlocks the door.

 

“One day, I’m gonna fly just like Miss Anne!” Caroline yells as she twirls on her toes.

 

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna sing just like Lettie,” Helen echoes, using her hair to make a beard and sing (more like scream) right into her sister’s ear.

 

“Quiet, you two, or they’re gonna kick us out of this building, and then no one is going to be anyone.” Charity hushes as she opens the door.

 

“You’re no fun honey! Besides, who’s gonna kick out P.T. Barnum, creator of the greatest show this side of Manhattan has ever seen, out of his crummy little apartment?” Barnum wraps his arms around his wife’s wait as they walk inside behind the girls, still dancing and singing.

 

“Helen, you can’t sing or dance. You can’t be in my circus.”

 

“ _Your_ circus?” Charity laughs.

 

“Well, I’m just thinking about the future of our business here. It can’t be Daddy’s show forever.” She states, as if it’s glaringly obvious.

 

“I wanna be in the circus! Mama, tell her I’m a good singer!” Helen whines, her face dropping by the second.

 

“Helen, you’re…” Charity looks at her daughter, knows she loves her more than anything in the world, but then she remembers all those long and painful car rides or bubble baths or even just play times in the house and everything filled with singing (screaming), and her ears hurt just at the thought. She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Helen catches the hesitation and immediately bites her lip and Charity knows, oh she knows.

 

The waterworks start just as P.T. gets up to answer the knock at the door. Charity pulls her daughter into a tight hug, feels the warm tears drop onto her dress and shoots her husband a look. “A little help, please!” She whisper-yells at him as he runs to the door.

 

“Phillip’s here!”

 

“Surprise! Who’s ready to— _oh no._ ” Phillip runs towards an excited Caroline, but stops short when he sees the hysterical Helen.

 

“Mommy called her a bad singer,” Caroline whispers up to him.

 

Phillip crouches down and opens his arms, Helen all but sprints at him as he does, and Charity stands to say, “Caroline started it!”

 

P.T. joins his wife and whispers in her ear, “See, I _was_ helping.”

 

“Okay, Princess, shhhh, it’s okay.” Phillip hushes soft coos as he rocks Helen back and forth until her hiccupping sobs die down.

 

“I wanna be in the circus,” She says softly between breaths.

 

“Well, I think you’re a better singer than me,” Phillip says, smiling at her.

 

“Buddy, _everyone’s_ a better singer than you—OW!” Barnum starts with a chuckle before Charity gives him an elbow to the side.

 

“Helen, I promise you can be in my circus.”

 

“ _Your_ circus?” Barnum adds.

 

“Just thinking about the future of our business here,” Phillip says with a smirk before turning back to the little girl. “Look at me, I’m in the circus. Yeah, I don’t sing and dance in it, but I get the best seat in the house. And I know it’s the greatest job I’ll ever have, because I get to see _you_ everyday.” He bops Helen on the nose and she giggles.

 

“To see Helen everyday or a certain trapeze—Wait, I’ll be quiet, sorry.” Barnum starts before turning to his wife, elbow ready to strike, with pleading eyes.

 

“I’ll only be in your circus if you tell Caroline she can’t be in it either.” Helen pouts sending a glare toward her sister.

 

“Oh, well, I can’t do that!” Phillip says.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because,” He starts, picking Helen up and placing her on his hip to stand, “do you know what my real favorite part of the circus is?” Helen shakes her head. “It’s the fact that anyone can be in it. Doesn’t matter what you look like or sound like or even smell like. We don’t care! Everyone is welcome inside our show. Whether they choose to sit in the audience, or juggle around a group of singers in the ring, or swing the trapeze, or even help out the show backstage. I love that your dad started a show that never turns anyone away.”

 

Helen seems to think about it for a minute, her eyebrows knotted together and her lips tight, then looks up to Phillip, “Okay, I guess.”

 

“I’ll take it!” Phillip yells, happy to see his favorite little girl (Phillip would never say he had a favorite Barnum girl, never ever, but everyone can tell he has a soft spot for the littlest one) happy again, spinning her around in a circle while she giggles.

 

“Caroline, before you get to join Phillip’s circus,” Charity starts, ignoring her husband’s demands that _it’s still his circus_ , and grabs Caroline’s hand and adds, “you should apologize to your sister.”

 

Caroline steps towards Phillip and her sister, “I’m sorry I called you a bad singer and dancer.” She says, embarrassed.

 

“It’s okay. You were probably right about the dancing part anyway.” Helen says very matter-of-factly, and hops down from Phillips arms to hug her sister as everyone else laughs.

 

“Me and Helen are gonna play circus while you make dinner, okay Mom?” Caroline says, already starting towards the living room.

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

“Am I allowed to play Circus too?” Phillip asks.

 

“Okay, but I’m being Lettie and Caroline’s being Anne, so you can’t be yourself or else you might kiss Caroline.” Helen tilts her head at a bright-red faced Phillip, and P.T. and Charity, already hysterical, slowly back away and towards the kitchen.

 

“Good luck with that one, sport,” Barnum says patting Phillip on the back.

 

“You know, I actually have an idea. Mind if I steal your kids for a second. I promise we’ll be safe.” Phillip says, his eyes bright.

 

“They’re all yours, Phil.”

 

Phillip grabs each girl by the hand and flies out the door.

 

“You know, I think we officially have three children, Charity.”

 

“Really, because I think I have four,” She ruffles his hair and walks into the kitchen, a smile on her lips.

 

* * *

 

“How much longer, Phillip?” Helen whines as they climb up another set of stairs.

 

“Patience, patience. This is the last one I promise.” He carefully guides the girls up the fire escape and once they reach the familiar roof of the apartment, the girls are delighted at what they find.

 

“Miss Anne, what are you doing up here?” Caroline yells as she runs towards her dance teacher-turned-circus idol.

 

“I feel like the better question would be, what are you doing here? Busted my secret hiding spot, Carlyle!” Anne says, standing to greet the little group of visitors.

 

“Well, the girls wanted to play circus, and I figured what better place than right up here. Plus, I figured I might find you here.”

 

“You’re smooth, Carlyle, pretty smooth.”

 

“Caroline was going to play Anne, but now that you’re here, _you_ can play Anne.” Helen says to Anne.

 

“Yes, and then Phillip doesn’t have to follow the kissing rule anymore.” Caroline adds, skipping across the open space.

 

“The kissing rule?” Anne asks Phillip, her eyebrows raised.

 

“Well, they were afraid if I was playing myself and Caroline was playing you, I might want to…”

 

Helen and Caroline make smooching sounds across the roof, giggling.

 

“Ah, I see,” Anne says, “Well, if they don’t mind, I guess that means we could…” Anne looks towards the girls, grabs one of Phillips hands and slowly, ever so slowly, flutters her eyes closed and leans in and leans in and Phillip has no idea what to, Anne so close to him like this, he just goes with it and she leans in and leans in and—

 

“EWWWW NOOOO!!!” “STOP STOP STOP!!!” The girls yell and run towards the pair, latching onto legs and pulling them apart.

 

He almost kissed Anne Wheeler. _He almost kissed Anne Wheeler!_

“Don’t hate me,” Anne throws her hands up in defense as Caroline swings around her legs and pulls her farther to the right.

 

Phillip looks into her eyes, all lit up and beautiful, and hoists Helen up in his arms, “Oh, on the contrary, Miss Wheeler. You just made my night.”

 

“Is that so, Mr. Carlyle?”

 

“I just got one step closer to boyfriend territory,” he smirks, and she turns all shades of red.

 

“Hey, I thought you were _my_ boyfriend!” Helen shouts into his ear.

 

“You heard the girl!” Anne laughs back, sitting on the ledge of the roof and pulling Caroline up next to her. “You’re _her_ boyfriend.”

 

“Well you know who has to visit girlfriends…” Helen shakes her head as Phillip touches their noses together. He waits a moment, Helen’s eyes bright and mouth slightly open, waiting.

 

“The kissing monster!” He yells, planting little kisses all over the girl’s forehead as she gasps away in blaring, shrieking laughter and tickling her sides as her giggles continues to echo.

 

He runs over to join the other girls on the ledge, Helen on his lap and Anne at his side, and Caroline tilts her little head up to the side.

 

“This is _way_ cooler than playing circus.”

 

And when Anne rests her hand on top of Phillip’s behind his back, Phillip definitely agrees.

 

“It sure is, kiddo. It sure is.”


	5. A Moment in Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the absolute worst at writing anything even semi-serious, so bear with me on this one. Sorry if angst is your thing, but i am literally incapable, so this is about as much angst as we're gonna get. ridiculous amounts of fluff will be back next chapter, i promise. (thanks for reading, much love)

* * *

 

Phillip doesn’t notice how popular the circus has gotten.

 

It grows so quickly he can barely keep up. Every act is a bigger hit than the last, with the crowds louder than the last, and the celebrations in the dressing rooms after hours grander than the last. Phillip doesn’t have time to notice the way his stomach tumbles when the audience applauds, the way he beams with pride from the wings of the stage, the rush of excitement as the crowd files out yelling their praises, the way he catches himself smiling a little brighter every day, and drinking a little less.

 

But it doesn’t take long to notice how unpopular _he_ has gotten.

 

Stuck in the shadows, he didn’t get much attention from the show, and if he did, it was always negative. No one liked where he was from where he started.

 

Phillip honestly couldn’t understand why it was any of their business where he was. He liked it, he kept out of there way. Who cared?

 

Apparently, everyone did. Especially his parents.

 

Phillip held his own since he started living on his own, but no matter how far society advanced, social status still dominated the city, and his parents were as high as it got. Money wasn’t everything anymore, but reputation still was, and he couldn’t walk through the lobby of his apartment without the sneers, the chuckles, the physical trash thrown at his feet.

 

He knew it started after that first week, when he invited his parents to a show and told them off when they refused to come.

 

For some reason, Phillip’s little endeavor into the arts of the average wasn’t something they wanted to be associated with.

 

Phillip thought talking about your son at all would be better than having to explain you’ve decided to cut-ties with him permanently, but hey? What did he know?

 

Phillip’s small cut of the show coupled with the money he funneled back into improving the show, ever the perfectionist, and to maybe buy some new clean shirts after a long day on the stage in rehearsals seemed to dwindle quickly.

 

He hated to be a problem at all, he much preferred to smile and run around the theater, never thinking about his own behind the scenes problems. It didn’t bother him much. Let his parents and their snooty friends chip away at everything he owned. He didn’t need them.

 

But once Charity caught him alone in his Barnum’s office while the rest of the cast went out for lunch (because Phillip just couldn’t afford more than one meal a day anymore) she wouldn’t let it not bother him anymore. Because it bothered her _a whole lot._

 

“I just don’t understand how someone could do that to a person, let alone their own child!” Charity huffed as she marched across the stage, towards the doors of the theater, Phillip following in her frantic maternal rage.

 

“It’s really okay, Charity. I should’ve seen this coming, if you knew my parents—”

 

“Oh, son, do I know your parents, alright, and they are about to hear it from me.”

 

Phillip’s eyes widened and he stopped, “You know my parents?”

 

“My parents were good friends of theirs. Your mother actually used to babysit me when my parents went out of town,” Charity spun around and said to Phillip, still looking as angry as ever, “We were very close, I actually remember when you were born.”

 

Phillip’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “But, when we met on the subway…”

 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to think I was another creepy stalker fan of yours, or else I would have never gotten you home with us.” He couldn’t believe it. The world sure does work in mysterious ways. “I always liked you better than that family of yours, but I’m probably biased since they helped my parents cut me off like they’re doing to you now.”

 

“You too?”

 

“They didn’t like their daughter marrying the man who’d start the circus as much as they hate you for helping him build it. And what they’re doing to you is just as horrible as I remember it being, maybe worse.”

 

“I just don’t get it though. I mean, I have my own job, my own savings, my own life! How in god’s name do they manage to get a hold of it all and take it from me. They can’t just take my money away, and why would they even want to?”

 

“I don’t know how they do it, there’s some dark business up at the top of the social world, but I believe they’re hoping when you have nothing you’ll come crawling back to them for help. But don’t you worry, Phil, I will _never_ let them make you go back there.” Charity suddenly grabs his hand and squeezes it so tight, like she’s holding onto something more than just his hand. Her bright eyes are watery and determined.

 

Phillip finally feels safe.

 

“Now,” Charity continues her raging exit, seeing red the whole way, “we’re gonna go down and get some lunch for that hungry stomach of yours, then I will personally escort you to your parents’ doorstep so we can flip them off for good.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

* * *

 

Here’s how the flipping off of the parents goes: it doesn’t.

 

At least, at first. The first three times they try, Phillip and Charity are not even let past the gates of his parent’s home, as they’ve been virtually blacklisted from the entire wealthy community.

 

But the more time Phillip has to sit on it, the more angry he gets, and the more determined he becomes to tell his parents to go to hell. Harsh, but true.

 

He starts seeing the news articles they run about the circus, the blog posts and the ads. They’re everywhere, and they’re almost never positive.

 

Phillip and Charity wait outside the gates on their next attempt, anger building. Phillip starts to feel terrible for all the time she’s spent taking care of him the past few weeks. She almost never lets him eat a meal alone, he practically lives in their house, has taken over their couch, she buys him new clothes and waves out the door when he leaves for work (and helps him pick out flowers to buy for Anne one night after the show). “You know you don’t have to wait with me Charity, I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

 

“Are you kidding me, Carlyle? I have been waiting too long for this day.”

 

Phillip chuckles, “But seriously, you’ve done way too much for me already. I have been leeching off of you and your family for weeks now.”

 

“It is not leeching when I offer, or insist.”

 

“You really don’t have to. I’m their problem, not yours.” He tilts his head up to the extravagant house behind the gates.

 

“Oh, as far as I’m concerned Phillip, you are _mine_ now. They have no right. And you are no problem, you are a blessing.” She stands next to him looking over the gates, “You know I always wanted a son. You may be too big for me to cuddle and squeeze like I do my girls, but you will never be too big for me to take care of.”

 

Phillip sucks in a shaky breath. “Don’t you go soft on me now Carlyle!” She teases him as he laughs, pacing around the cobblestone pathway.

 

He looks at his phone to distract from his overwhelming emotions and comes across another article on the atrocity of the circus.

 

“Oh, I hate reading those, it’s all ridiculous nonsense.” Charity waves off the article and goes back to looking over the gate for a sign of someone to let them in.

 

“I agree, I just tell myself: If everyone hated the show this much, we wouldn’t have a packed audience every night.”

 

“Ain’t that the truth.”

 

Phillip absentmindedly scrolls down the page a little more, and is about to close the page when he notices a familiar name in the text.

 

“Charity, oh my god. They quoted my parents!” Phillip screams and Charity rushes over.

 

And there it is, in print, his parents expressing their disdain. He tries to not let it get to him as he reads line by line. He can hear their mocking and disapproving tone in every word. He swears he would have gotten over it if it hadn’t been for that last line.

 

_The show is asking for trouble, putting those black kids one the trapeze, especially the girl. It is uncomfortable and wrong, a disgrace to the American name. We need good, clean shows, not inappropriate escapades that glorify the people that litter our streets with crime, filth, and unwholesome values. Anyone who would support a girl like that is as unwelcome as she is._

Charity sees the anger light up in Phillip’s eyes at the end of that.

 

“We’re climbing over the fence. They think we have unwholesome values? That’s exactly what I’ll give them.”

 

Charity beams with pride.

 

* * *

 

When they reach the front doors of the Carlyle mansion, big enough to be a hotel, Phillip is panting with rage and fury (and exhaustion, that gate was _not_ easy). Charity scans the front porch, the scene all too familiar, then looks to the doorbell. “You do the honors, Phil.”

 

And he rings to doorbell.

 

Moments pass in silence, and he suddenly starts to panic. His previous confidence starts to feel a lot smaller standing in this big entryway.

 

“Charity, what do I say?”

 

“Whatever you feel in your gut, kiddo.”

 

Phillip sucks in a deep breath, turns to face the door, and watches as it opens.

 

His father stands in the doorway. They lock eyes. He calls for his mother to come to the door.

 

“This won’t take long,” he adds, giving Phillip a challenging stare.

 

“You’re right,” Phillip states, “Won’t take long for me to cut you out of my life, You’ve already done the hard part.”

 

Phillip’s mother arrives and she looks softer than his father, though not by much.

 

“You need to leave that circus, son.” His father starts.

 

“First of all, do not call me son. I do not believe you have any right to do so after the way you’ve treated me since I started working on the show,” Phillip says, then looks at Charity for some encouragement, this already being harder than he imagined, and she urges him on, “And secondly, the only thing I’m leaving behind, is all of this,” Phillip waves his hand around.

 

“You won’t survive much longer without us, Phillip.” His mother pleads.

 

“Oh, I think I’m doing just fine.”

 

“You’ll have nothing left by the end if the month. We’ve seized your accounts, your credits, we’ve ruined your name among the entire city, you won’t walk in anywhere and be able to get anything without us. Now, you either return to us and we can restore your wealth, or you can stay there and end up with nothing.”

 

“I don’t know what your definition of nothing is, but from where I’m standing, I have more than you ever will. Take my money, my apartment, my status, I don’t care. Because I have a work that I adore, with people that I adore, and who give me everything I could ever need.”

 

“Those people are filthy and disgraceful.”

 

“Does she look filthy to you?” Phillip turns and points to Charity, who gives a smirk and a wave, “Or do you just mean our amazingly diverse cast, a cast of all shapes and sizes and colors. Because let me tell you, they are the epitome of grace and class and everything that I think we need to see more of in this world. They have taught me to find strength and courage I never knew I had. I hope to be half the people they are.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Phillip. We’ve seen the pictures, you need to stop following around that girl—”

 

“ _You_ don’t know what you’re talking about, because you’re too caught up in appearances to see how happy I am! I am so fucking happy here! And _that girl,_ is one of the greatest things to ever happen to me! She is kind, and smart, and brave, and witty, and so talented, but you’ll never see that because you can’t get past what she looks like, which is really beautiful, by the way, she’s so beautiful.”

 

His father starts to speak again but Phillip cuts him off, bright red with rage and not wanting to stop this any time soon, “No, I’m not done. There’s her brother that makes me laugh on command, who brings me a bag of my favorite chips to rehearsal every day just because he wants to. And her best friend can light up the room no matter how big it is, and moves people to tears with her voice. We have a small general who is a bigger man than you ever will be, a jokester, but with the biggest heart. We have dancers like you’d never believe, each with a unique story to tell. They never let me skip out on a cast lunch, I’ve had some of them drag me out of the theater just to have fun with them. They are inclusive and warm and wonderful. You cannot say I will have nothing when I know I have everything now.”

 

“You are not the son we raised.”

 

“Good, he was a selfish drunk. I’m much better this way.”

 

“This way, you are a menace, Phillip. An absolute disgust, running around with those people. I hope you understand how low you’ve sunk, god, I don’t even recognize you.”

 

“If you ever want to see me again…” Phillip starts.

 

“We don’t.” His mother breaks her silence. “I am sick at the thought of what you’ve been doing. It goes against everything I believe in and I cannot be bothered to love you anymore this way.”

 

Phillip stands in silence and looks long and hard at his parents.

 

“Can’t be bothered to love me anymore.” He echoes.

 

“Phillip,” his mother starts, seeming to regret her words already.

 

“Nope, don’t even think of it.” Charity steps up, and Phillip is grateful, since he can’t get any words out at the moment. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, letting your boy suffer all because you don’t like his job. He went hungry for days because of you, he went a week with no hot water, spent sleepless nights on our couch, heartbroken, thinking that his parents could really not love him anymore. And I swore to him you still did. And look at what a liar you’ve made me.”

 

Charity steps up closer to the door to look his parents in the eye. “I didn’t know you could do any worse, but here we are. If you don’t want your son, we are more than happy to have him for the rest of his life. My husband and my girls have loved your son more over the past few months than I believe you have his whole life. And it pains me to say that, because I expected more from you. I know a mother’s love, and this is not it. You have a son here who will change the world with his ability to see the good in people and let them know it. He was still looking for the good in you, but I promise you, he will not be looking any more.”

 

Charity wraps an arm around Phillip’s shoulder and turns them away to run down the path, not giving his parents a chance to say anything more.

 

“Charity?”

 

“Yeah, Phil?”

 

“Are you sure I’m too big for one of those hugs you were talking about?”

 

* * *

 

 Anne is the first one to notice him, but when is she not?

 

He comes running through the theater, head held higher than it has been since last week. Whispers around the cast told her he spoke to his parents. She doesn’t believe he handled it well. She’s yet to work up the courage to ask.

 

Barnum had the troupe gathered before practice because morale was low after the latest round of bad publicity. Even Barnum’s pure optimism was hard to rally behind.

 

Phillip was the last person they expected to cheer them all up right now.

 

“What’s this, no practice? Show can’t run itself.” He leaps over the edge of the stage and strides towards the group.

 

“Relax, Carlyle, we’re just trying to figure out if we should bother puttin’ in our two weeks notice, or if the critics have already done that for us,” Lettie scoffs and she looks up at Phillip.

 

“Well, I hope you’ll consider three weeks, because three weeks from today, P.T. Barnum’s Circus will be performing a special feature show at Buckingham Palace.” Phillip pulls a crisp white note from his pocket.

 

The crowd goes wild.

 

“ _The_ Buckingham Palace?!”

 

“You’re kidding, Carlyle!”

 

“The Queen of England, now _that’s_ an audience.”

 

“Think we’ll be there for the wedding?”

 

“How the hell did you manage this one, Phil?”

 

Barnum wraps an arm around Phillips shoulders, the boy’s head high, smiling. “I knew I liked you for a reason…”

 

“Well, they wanted class, Phillip Carlyle will give them class,” he says, laughing.

 

“You make me prouder every day, Phil.” Barnum ruffles his hair with a smirk, and starts to walk away, but then leans back over to whisper, “You know, son, Charity told me those things you said about your girl over there,” He nods over to Anne, who’s busy twirling Caroline around on her hoop, “If I were you, I’d take this wave of confidence we’re riding and maybe say them to her face.” He winks and starts to walk away.

 

“Why do I have to make the first move, isn’t it her turn?” Phillip calls out with an exasperated sigh.

 

“Give ‘em class, kid, give ‘em class.”

 

Anne catches his eye in between piggybacks for the girls and dammit, she’s too beautiful for this.

 

He walks over, past the crowds of still-excited dancers and steps up next to the trapeze ring that’s been lowered to the ground.

 

“So, are you sure we’re all invited to this royalty thing?” She says with a smirk.

 

“Well, either we all go, or none of us go.” He counters, spinning the wheel with a giggling Helen.

 

“That’s a bold move, Carlyle, and honestly, kinda stupid. You don’t need us filthy, dregs of society dragging you down with us.” He knows she read the article his parents were a part of.

 

“Well, seeing as that stupidly good looking smile of yours makes me feel like I could fall off the roof of your apartment, I don’t think I’m that far down at all.”

 

“Bad analogy on my part, I forgot you were afraid of heights.”

 

“Surprisingly enough, I think that fear is starting to go away.”

 

They lock eyes, as they almost always do, and Anne can’t help it, she giggles and tucks her chin.

 

“Stupidly good looking smile, huh?”

 

“Looks at lot like that one,” He nods up, eyes locked on her stupidly good looking smile a little longer.

 

“Well then, Carlyle, I think you owe me two things.”

 

“Two things?” He raises his eyebrows at her as she takes a step closer.

 

“One, it’s wine night at our place and I’m sick of spending it alone. You’re coming over. I’ll supply the Chinese food and you can bring me some more of those flowers you bought me last week because the last of them died and they looked nice in my kitchen.”

 

Phillip laughs as he notices her try to keep a straight face, but she’s red and blushing all over.

 

“And two?”

 

“On this plane ride to England, you’re sitting next to me and holding my hand the whole way up,” Phillip laughs, so she adds, “If I didn’t secure you now, I know I’d look over mid-flight and my brother would be cuddled into your side.”

 

“No, no, not that, just, I thought you _weren’t_ afraid of heights.”

 

“Oh, I’m not.” She says very matter-of-factly. He looks at her, waiting for an explanation, as she flips her hair around and walks towards the backstage area.

 

“Stop looking at me like that, Carlyle. We all have our weaknesses. Heights are yours, and you just so happen to be mine.”

 

* * *

 


	6. A Moment in Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so when i started writing story this i was gonna follow the plot of the movie but got excited this chapter and now its a little out of order. But it's really frickin cute so i hope you won't hate me that much. <3

* * *

 

“But daddyyyyy, I wanna stay here!”

 

“Helen Barnum, never in my life have I heard of a girl who’d rather stay home and go to school than go on vacation for an extra week.”

 

“I can believe it, when a certain Carlyle is staying in our apartment,” Charity winks at her daughter, who is currently blushing as she tries to drag her suitcase out of her father’s grip as they wait by the door.

 

The Barnums were currently twenty minutes past the time they were supposed to leave the apartment the get to the airport on time, and if Helen had her way, they’d never make it there.

 

P.T. thought it would be fun to take the family to England a week early for a long-overdue family vacation. Sure, he was well equipped to turn a few bed sheets and pillows into a fantasy adventure for his girls any night, but P.T. had the time, and finally the money, to take his girls to a real magical place. There was so much to do, to see, and he wouldn’t even have to _think_ about being ringmaster until the cast showed up a few days later.

 

This included Phillip Carlyle, the one and only true object of little Helen’s affection for the past months, meaning wherever he was, she wanted to be.

 

“C’mon, princess, you’ll have so much more fun there than you would have here with me,” Phillip tried to push the little girl towards the door.

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

“I _do_ know that, missy,” he huffed as she stuck her tongue out at him, “I’m gonna sit here for the rest of the week, either asleep on the couch or filling out boring paperwork, no fun in here—”

 

“Alright, Phil, let’s get this party started…” and with that horribly timed entrance, a bright head of bouncy brown curls peaks around the doorframe, voice trailing, “Oh, hey guys, thought you’d be at the airport by now.” Anne rings her hands together, a nervous habit Phillip has noticed, as he started to notice every little thing about her, before walking into the crowded entrance. “A little heads up woulda been nice, yeah?” She whispers through gritted teeth when he slides to stand next to her.

 

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders up.

 

Helen only whines louder.

 

“Phillip _and_ Anne, we’re never going to get her out the door now.” Caroline muses, shifting her suitcase handle from one hand to the other.

 

Phillip and P.T. share a look, the older trying to hold back as much laugher as possible, “You’re gonna be the death of me, kid.”

 

“Likewise,” Phillip says as tilts his head down to the little girl who is clinging onto his calves like a koala.

 

“Why does Anne get to stay home with Phillip? She gets to watch movies and play games and eat ice cream and have a sleepover!!!” Helen whines.

 

“Well mommy didn’t want Phillip staying alone because moms worry about these things, so I dragged Anne out to stay with him,” Charity answers.

 

“I coulda kept him company, mom!”

 

“Ya know what, you can have my spot, Helen,” Anne says, ducking down to meet her. Her eyes light up for a moment before Anne continues, “Yup, just don’t forget, you have to do all the parent-work your mom gave me to do.”

 

“What’s that?” She tilts her head.

 

“Oh, well you know, wash the bowls after ice cream, vacuum the rug after movie night, fold the pajama laundry, make the beds, not to mention washing Phil’s stinky socks. You don’t mind doing that for me while I’m gone right?”

 

Helen furrows her eyebrows, “ _All_ of that?”

 

“And more. But that’s okay, because I know you’d have more fun doing that than, I don’t know, going to see Big Ben, or tasting chocolates, or seeing plays while you’re on your trip.” Anne stands up and continues, “I’ll just need 10 minutes to go get my suitcase from downstairs…” She starts towards the door.

 

“Actually—” Helen jumps up and everyone looks, “You promise me that you’ll see me when you meet us there next week?” She looks up at Phillip with those big eyes that he’s a sucker for every time.

 

“Pinky promise, you can even sit with me backstage when we watch the show.”

 

She jumps up and latches her arms around Phillip’s neck with a quick squeeze before bolting to her suitcase. “Let’s go mommy, Anne has dirty socks to wash!”

 

Everyone laughs as they make their rounds hugging goodbyes and see you soons.

 

Charity whispers to Anne, “Dirty socks, a good play Wheeler, you know your stuff.”

 

“I’m glad it worked on Helen, but, _he_ better not get any ideas, the man can wash his own socks on my watch,” she glances over at Phillip and even though she’s thinking about dirty socks, she feels her stomach instinctively flip at the sight of his sparking smile.

 

Charity looks up at their shared glance with a smirk, “You two are literally going to be the greatest parents the world has ever seen.” Anne’s jaw drops.

 

“Oh Anne, sweetie, you didn’t know about my favorite kind of parent-work? Embarrassing my kiddos. I happen to be very good at it.” She chuckles, squeezes Anne’s bright red cheeks, and starts to walk out the door, and adds quietly, “Have fun, but not so much that you have to become those kick-ass parents just yet.”

 

Anne is most embarrassed by the overwhelming giggle of a smile that spreads across her face, and can’t throw her hand up to cover it fast enough.

 

“What’s so funny?” Phillip chuckles as he locks the door behind the Barnums.

 

She can’t do anything but shake her head, and think about all the dirty socks she’d wash if it meant she’d one day have kids with this man.

 

She’s completely lost it.

 

* * *

 

About five hours and a food fight later, Anne found herself digging through Phillip’s makeshift closet space in a spare drawer in Caroline and Helen’s room. A sentence she thought she’d never say to be true about herself. Yet, here she was.

 

After some time bingeing close to half season of Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure for both, Anne had offered to make something for them to eat for dinner. And she _swears_ she’s a good cook, she never had a problem before. But maybe it’s the stove she’s not used to or the salt that came out of the salt-shaker too fast, (but probably something closer to the way she lost complete track of time staring into a pair of blue eyes over the kitchen counter as he told her stories about the Barnum girls that led into tales of his own childhood and some of hers and then he started being just flat out charming and she couldn’t look away and all of a sudden _crap dinner is burnt)._

 

With the small kitchen thoroughly smoked up and her clothes wet and messy, Phillip sent Anne to grab a shirt of his to wear while he cleaned up. Anne doesn’t believe all these things are true, but again, here she was.

 

“Should I go with your plain white t-shirt or… oh look at that, another plain white t-shirt?” Anne calls down the hall as she pulls the shirt down over her figure.

 

“Does my wardrobe bother you?”

 

“I just don’t see what one person could possibly do with so many freakin’ t-shirts, I mean, what do you sleep in one, wear one to rehearsals, save one for shows, and then just repeat?” She pushes the drawer closed and straightens the hem of the shirt by her waist.

 

“I have some black t-shirts somewhere if that would make you happier.” Anne hears the water from the kitchen sink shut off as she rounds out of the room and heads back towards him. “You act like you’ve never met a guy before. Does your brother not own a t-shirt or something?”

 

“Um, you _have_ met my brother before, right?”

 

“Point taken.”

 

“I really can’t believe I’m willing to be seen in public with a boy who wears sweaty old undershirts as regular clothing like it’s normal,” She laughs.

 

“Keep it up, Wheeler. Keep making fun of my clothes and you can wear nothing instead.”

 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Anne leans her hip against the doorframe leading into the kitchen and gives Phillip a smirk that challenges his blue eyes.  

 

Phillip’s eyes grow wide and his cheeks flush as he turns to face her, and he mumbles, “Oh, I, uh, I didn’t mean…”

 

She shakes her head laughing, “I’m starving. There’s not much open this late but we can grab a box of cereal from around the corner. And you know I can’t burn it,” She arches her eyebrows.

 

Still bright red and recovering, Phillip nods, “Good plan. Lemme just go find my keys, and maybe my dignity.” He tucks his chin and runs out the room past Anne. She elbows him in the process and likes the little giggle she sees.

 

“I cannot believe it is 10:30 on a Friday night, and I am going out in public with my boss in matching old white t-shirts to buy gourmet cereal for dinner,” she laughs as she swings the door closed behind them and starts walking next to Philip. They jog down the steps and out into the cool city springtime night air.

 

“Are you kidding, this is exactly what I want to be doing on my Friday night!” He chuckles sarcastically.

 

“Sorry I almost burnt down your kitchen.”

 

“Don’t worry about it—a kitchen in the Barnum residence, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think as long as you hold a door open for me tonight I should let you consider it a date.”

 

Phillip stops in his tracks, a step ahead of Anne on the busy sidewalk. He turns around quickly. “Anne Wheeler, are you for real? Don’t make me tickle attack you on the streets of Manhattan to get a real answer out of you.”

 

“Don’t, I mean it,” Anne simultaneously beams and shields her sides, “The fact that I really did almost burn down your kitchen and while it was happening you still looked at me like I singlehandedly hung all the stars in the sky, means I should probably up my flirting game.”

 

Phillip echoes her smile and reaches out a hand. Anne grabs it and her stomach somersaults.

 

“It’s about damn time Wheeler, my Carlyle charms have never had to work so hard,” Phillip says with a little swing of their interlocked hands as they start to walk again.

 

“Oh really, hot shot?”

 

“I’m just saying, I thought I’d run out of subtly romantic ways to woo you and I’d really have to consider taking your brother up on that Wheeler switch.”

 

“It was actually W.D. who hid my key to my apartment and wouldn’t return it until I decided to ‘man up and confess my sickeningly sweet love for you’, his words exactly.”

 

Phillip laughs, “Well it’s a good thing I also have a sickeningly sweet love for you and would make sure you wouldn’t need that key for at least the rest of this week.” Anne smiles as they reach the small store and can’t help the blushing laughter that escapes as her _date_ swoops in to open the door…

 

And watches it slide open automatically.

 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before Phillip found himself curled up on the couch, a box of rice krispies emptied on the table and a pretty acrobat sitting a few feet away.

 

“Do you ever miss life before this whole circus thing?” Phillip started, his foot kicking hers under their shared blanket.

 

Anne tilts her head and thinks for a second, kicks his foot back and tugs the blanket a little closer before answering, “Do you?”

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“Well, I thought I would, which is why I so adamantly refused all of my brother’s and Lettie’s and Barnum’s pleas to join. I didn’t want to lose the life I thought I was finally settling in to,” she snuggles her side into the crook of the couch, “But then this hot babysitter shows up at my dance studio and screws everything up. Now I’m always happy and smiling, which totally ruins my cool and no-nonsense persona, and to top it all off, I’m falling ridiculous in love with that hot babysitter.”

 

“Sorry I ruined your tough guy act.”

 

“How’d you know I was talking about you?” She sits up on her keens and leans forward towards him (who is very much that hot babysitter).

 

“Is there someone I should be worried about? Do I need to block every man on the street from holding doors for you until I get to?” He pitches forward a little closer.

 

“I mean, that seems only necessary,” she winks, “Although, if you keep looking at me like that, I might be willing to forget it.”

 

Their faces are less than inches apart, bodies close and perched up on the center cushions of the couch.

 

“All I needed was that first glimpse of your eyes and I never missed a second of my life before that moment,” Phillip says.

 

Anne blinks fast and can’t stop the gasp that escapes.

 

“You should go open that door over there right now so I can kiss you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do I still get to take you on a real date?”

 

“Tomorrow. I’m all yours.”

 

“I was hoping you’d say that…” Phillip reaches a hand into the space between the couch cushions and pulls out two tickets. “Been saving these for the day I finally wore you down. The theater world doesn’t fully hate me yet. Pick a show and we’ve got seats tomorrow night.”

 

“You, Mr. Carlyle, are _ridiculous_.”

 

“Makes sense, since I happen to be _ridiculously_ falling in love with you.”

 

Anne throws her head back in laughter, the joy of the simplicity of a thing she always though to be so complicated completely baffling her as her body instinctively drifts closer and closer to the scent of rice krispie breath and kitchen hand soap.

 

“Before I take you up on that kissing offer, I have a question,” Phillip says, his head tilting a little to one side.

 

Anne smiles, “Okay, hit me.”

 

“On our midnight run for cereal I had a realization… your apartment is just a few floors below where we are right now. So when you ruined your shirt cooking, you could have easily run downstairs and grabbed a new one. But instead you took one of my plain white t-shirts and made fun of it all night.” Phillip quirks an eyebrow up and cracks a grin.

 

Anne meets his bright blue eyes with a blushing and sheepish grin, and grabs the hem of the shirt in her fists and then tucks her chin into her shoulder, “It smells like you.”

 

“Wheeler, you did not need me to go break your tough exterior, you made a sap of yourself all on your own.”

 

Anne jumps back and grabs the pillow behind her and hits Phillip in the shoulder with a bellowing laugh, “I’ll take back every nice thing I said about you!”

 

“Oh really?” Phillip counters, arming himself with an equally fluffy couch pillow, climbing to his feet on the cushions.

 

Anne meets him up with a jump that shakes the room, or maybe its just the way her fast heartbeats make her feel as she jumps on her circus boss’s couch hitting the hot babysitter with a pillow.

 

There are so many situations she’s been in tonight that she never thought she’d be in, but the one that happens next she knows was a long time coming.

 

Mid-jump with a pillow to her side she somehow finds Phillip’s hand in hers and it happens so quickly, her whole world lights up rosy and without a second thought she throws her arm with pillow fisted in her hand around his neck and pulls him close. She thinks maybe she’ll wait a second, touch their noses together and bask in it all and breathe in sync but when his lips are that close and he’s laughing like that goddammit how is she supposed to show any self control?

 

So in one swift swoop she wraps her arm around his neck closer and tucks the other in his hair and parts her lips and sucks the laugh right out of his all at once. His hands settle around her waist, in her hair, she feels every inch of him on her and in her, lips moving with an electric pace.

 

It tastes equal parts like a midnight cereal run and flying.

 

“I’m glad your brother locked you out of your apartment.” He breathes quickly, eager to do that little piece of perfection again.

 

“Does that offer still stand?” She asks with a smirk that Phillip knows is asking for trouble, but he asks her “What offer?” anyway.

 

“The one about the plain white t-shirt…” she trails, grabbing his hand from it’s place on her back and guiding it to the bottom hem by her waist, “you said if I kept making fun of it, I’d have to wear nothing…”

 

He kisses her quick to shut up the burst of laughter that escapes her and only answers, “You make it really hard to be a gentleman, Wheeler,” he shakes his head at her glowing smile, “Ask me again after a few dates.”

 

“Can I ask you tomorrow?”

 

He hits her with a pillow from behind.

 

* * *

 

Anne remembers falling asleep cozy and warm on the couch and wakes up to the late morning sunlight considerably less cuddled. Could have something to do with the Carlyle no longer at her side.

 

She sits up with a stretch and blinks with the bright light, not usually a morning person, but deciding to hate mornings less when she notices something on the table in front of her.

 

A bouquet of pale pink roses rests against a small white note. She picks it up with a smile and reads: _Morning, sleepyhead. Had to get to work early to do some paperwork. Also to hopefully put off the inevitable ‘treat her good or we hurt you’ chat I’m gonna get from the entire cast, especially Lettie. Got your key from W.D. It’s in the kitchen. I’ll be home in time for dinner before the show. Haven’t looked into the theater, but the restaurant I’m taking you has perfectly functioning doors with a handle. I’ll be practicing my door-opening technique all morning. It’s a date. –Carlyle_

Anne feels the blush take over her face quickly.

 

She snuggles back in to her spot on the couch and makes the most amazing discovery—the shirt still smells like him.


End file.
